One Simple Truth
by aris-eile
Summary: Dr. Cox has always hated his body.


**Title:** One Simple Truth

**Author:** leabharlover

**Rating:** PG-13/Teen

**Warnings:** Disordered eating, brief mentions of child abuse, swearing

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Scrubs, and no infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** This is my first fanfic in the "Scrubs" fandom. Reviews and concrit are welcome. If you find any errors, please feel free to point them out. Otherwise, enjoy!

Dr. Cox: The key to my exercise program is this one simple truth: I hate my body.

Turk: What?

Dr. Cox: Do you understand the second you look in the mirror and you're happy with what you see, baby, you just lost the battle.

- Season 1, Episode 21, "My Sacrificial Clam"

Perry hadn't lied to Turk. In fact, when he told him he hated his body, it was probably the most truthful he had ever been about his own appearance in a very long time. His eyes were pale and scary, his curly hair too feminine. When he was a child, his little belly stuck out ever so slightly; he could remember back when he first realized that this was a problem. It was an ugly body, his dad told him. Ugly, fat and useless. Most importantly to Perry though, was that it let him down when he needed it the most. This was a body that was too slow to outrun his father's drunken clutches, to protect his sister from the constant slaps, to avoid the painful snap of the belt against his ass. This was the body that had somehow tempted his father's drinking buddy that one summer evening when he was ten, and he would never forgive it for that.

He spent most of his teenage years playing sports and running. He kept a tight rein on what he ate and watched in rapture as his stomach began to sink in and firm up, and his arms and thighs developed thick cords of pure muscle. His body was becoming strong and Perry was intoxicated with the process. Sometimes he fasted for days at a time, only allowing water to slosh around in his belly. The feeling of lightness those days made his heart soar.

But that just made the bingeing all that more of a letdown. The stacks of chocolate bars at the convenience store (Mars, Snickers, Bounty and Twix) seemed to call out to him day after day until Perry broke and bought a large bunch, only to bolt them all down as soon as he got home. Sickened and ashamed, as soon as he swallowed the last bite he'd dash for the bathroom, jam his fingers down his throat and puke until he was dry heaving into the toilet bowl.

"Gotta learn self-control," he had ranted at himself internally as he rinsed his mouth out with tap water. "Stop being such a fucking screw up."

The last thing he ever wanted to become was his father - fat and doughy, with bloodshot eyes and a bottle of beer between his legs. Perry tried to stop his face from changing in the mirror, but his mind ran with the thought and changed his form into that of his father's. Perry retched in utter disgust and dashed for the toilet again.

No one ever noticed, except maybe Paige, but she never said anything, just watched quietly as he'd leave the bathroom, her expression sad.

In medical school Perry learned about eating disorders, and on his psych rotation he saw what damage they could do first hand. Anna was brought in at 78 pounds, far too underweight for a 5'2" 17 year old girl. Perry was there when her heart, weakened by years of stress from fasting, finally decided to give out and slip away. They had to pull her baby brother away from her body in the end, and Perry was shaken at the sight. He went home that night and stripped in front of the mirror. "I'm not fat," he tried to tell himself. "I'm healthy and I deserve to be well taken care of." But no matter how many times he repeated it, his mind rejected the very idea. Words were just words. And besides, Perry would continue to rationalize as the years went on, it wasn't like he was underweight. He had muscle, lots of it, and the puking only happened every once in a while. Clearly he was not someone who had an eating disorder.

Years passed and things moved on. Perry relished the time he spent in the gym, and thanked his job's long hours for allowing him to avoid most meals. He ate enough to maintain his muscle only. He drank enough to explain the puking as the result of a hangover. As he grew older he got more and more frightened of the changing face in the mirror, and sometimes only by pure exhaustion could he expel the thought from his head.

On occasion the babymuncher he called his wife would show a brief bit of humanity. Resting a suitable foot apart on the bed, enjoying the afterglow, Jordan would reach over and run a hand up over Perry's hard stomach.

"You're not fat," she'd say. He would remain silent and still until she eventually drifted off to sleep, then he'd creep silently into the kitchen and eat a whole tub of Jack's favourite chocolate chip ice cream. He'd relieve himself of it face-down in the bathroom toilet, and do crunches on the living room floor until his abdominals burned and his whole body begged for sleep. Then, and only then, would he head back to the bedroom.

Somehow she was always awake when he returned.

When Jack did his "fatty dance" in the hospital lobby, Perry died a little inside. The last thing he'd ever want to do is pass on his prejudices to his child, but it appeared that he had done so anyway. A small part of him (a part that he squashed down heatedly) wondered if Jack would mock him if one day Perry lost the fight with his bingeing and packed on the pounds. He didn't know if he could stand it if that happened.

Figures that it would be Newbie to figure out his 40-year secret. Losing those transplant patients to rabies ("to your stupidity," his mind hissed at him) had sent him into a tailspin and whenever he was alone at home he was either in the kitchen or the bathroom in a never-ending binge and purge cycle. Even now, back at work, the urge to continue is strong, and Perry thinks he might have lost some of his willpower back with the patients. He eats an enormous lunch until his stomach feels like it might split in two, then hastily leaves for the bathroom. Maybe he's lost some of his common sense too though, because when he emerged from the stall, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sees JD standing by the sinks with a knowing look in his eyes. Perry follows his gaze down to the redness on knuckles and sighs, grasping the sink and dropping his head down. He feels so tired all of a sudden.

"Newbie-" he begins, but his mind has stalled. Coming up with a suitable lie seems like too much work, and Perry's relatively sure that JD has figured it out anyway. Certainly not all of it - he's not given away enough signs to suggest that this is a lifelong habit or anything, and it's most likely that the kid thinks this is a new development. A coping mechanism of sorts. Either way, the shame washes through Perry. It's hot and uncomfortable and he waits tensely to be berated. So he's sort of relieved when the younger doctor doesn't say anything at all. He just pulls him up away from the sink and wraps his arms around him from behind. The hug the kid always wanted, and while it should feel like blackmail (a hug in exchange for his silence on Perry's not so kosher eating behaviour), it doesn't at all. It feels like comfort and understanding and acceptance and Perry doesn't deserve it. He'll deny it to high heaven later on, but for now he can't keep back the gentle trickle of tears that slide down his face. Oblivious, JD holds on and Perry lets him.

He can hate himself later.


End file.
